Seven1995

Somerset:
Victor's landlord said there was an envelope of cash in the office mailbox the first of every month. Quote: "I never heard a single complaint from the tenant in apartment 306, and nobody ever complained about him. He's the best tenant I've ever had." End quote.

Mills:
Yeah, a landlord's dream: a paralyzed tenant with no tongue.

Somerset:
Who pays the rent on time.

Mills:
I'm sick of all this waiting!

Somerset:
This is the job.

Mills:
Why aren't we out there, huh? Why we gotta sit here, rotting, waiting until the lunatic does it again?

Somerset:
It's dismissive to call him a lunatic. Don't make that mistake.

Mills:
Come on, he's insane. Look, right now he's probably dancing around in his grandmother's panties, yeah, rubbing himself in peanut butter. Ooh. How's that?

Somerset:
I don't think so.

Mills:
His luck will run out.

Somerset:
He's not depending on luck. We walked into that apartment exactly one year after he tied Victor to the bed. One year to the date. He wanted us to.

Mills:
Don't know that for sure.

Somerset:
Oh yes, we do. This note he left, his first words to us: "Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light."

Mills:
F*** him. So what?

Somerset:
He's right so far. Imagine the will it takes to keep a man bound for a full year, to sever his hand and use it to plant fingerprints, to insert tubes into his genitals. This guy's methodical, exacting, and worst of all, patient.

Mills:
He's a nut-bag! Just because the f***er's got a library card doesn't make him Yoda.